Darkophobia
by Icabu
Summary: Light response to GingerS' stuck in an elevator challenge


Emergency! Belongs to Universal and Mark VII – I'm only borrowing them.

Darkophobia

Icabu

Whistling, John Gage stepped into the empty elevator car. Cindy – that's HOT Cindy – in orthopedics had actually agreed to go out to dinner on Thursday. He punched the button to return to Emergency where Roy was certainly already pacing and irritated. John leaned against the back of the car and concentrated on where to take Cindy for their first date – of many, he hoped. Should he go all out fancy or do something more casual? The descent of the elevator shuddered briefly, jerking John from his reverie.

Senses heightened, John glanced nervously around the confined space. The ride steadied and he relaxed again, which helped when the car jerked to a complete stop and the light went out. The emergency light flickered briefly and then also went out, making it darker than dark in the elevator car.

John heard groaning and realized it came from him. He was on the floor and pushed up to a sitting position. He found a knot rising above his left ear. Closing his eyes and reopening them didn't help – the darkness was total. Leaning his head back, he settled in for what he hoped was a quick rescue. Certainly, it wouldn't take very long for hospital maintenance to free the elevator or get him out.

"I'm not claustrophobic," John said aloud. It felt as if he'd been stuck in there for hours but he knew it had only been about ten minutes, maybe less.

He wondered what the fear of the dark was called. Darkophobia? Pitchblackophobia? He squinted and searched for any sign of light, however faint. Nothing. Waving his hand in front of his face did nothing but poke his eye. He did see a couple sparks of light from that, but nothing that would illuminate his surroundings.

With sight useless, John concentrated on listening for any signs of rescue. Closing his eyes seemed to help concentrate on listening. Did the eyelids signal the brain to stop paying attention to sight, giving hearing top priority? Some faint clanging sounds filtered within range of his ears. It definitely didn't sound close. Loudest of all was the thud of his pulse in his ears.

"I'm not claustrophobic," he said aloud again. It sounded incredibly loud in the dark quiet of the car.

After another ten-minute hour, John got to his feet. The blackness was disorienting. He held his hand out and stepped to the front of the car. Banging his fists against the doors, he yelled. Loud. He yelled and banged until he was hoarse and his hands hurt. Breathing heavily, he slid down. His sweaty arms squeaked along the metal doors.

Heat. He was sweating an awful lot. Was there a fire? He sniffed deeply, concentrating on each molecule that entered his nose. He didn't smell anything burning or hot. It must be just that the air circulation was off, creating stagnant, warm air. Certainly the car wasn't air tight. His chest tightened at the thought; he forced relaxation, deep even breathing. "I am NOT claustrophobic," he yelled.

Pulling his shirt off, he mopped his face and neck. When he tossed the shirt aside the badge hit the side of the car, pinging loudly. It reminded John of the sonar sound from a submarine movie he'd watched recently. It didn't take much imagination in his present situation to take his mind deep into the ocean depths with a vicious enemy circling above. Any sound he made could bring a rain of depth charges upon his head and send his tin box spiraling to the bottom. Rasping, his breath echoed in his dark cell.

"I'm not claustrophobic!"

"Johnny?"

Clambering to his feet, John leaned against the doors. "Roy? Anyone! I'm stuck in here!"

"We're working on it. Are you okay in there?"

Although faint, Roy's voice filled the darkness.

"I'm okay. It's hot in here." Not sure why he added the last part, John shrugged. "How long?"

"About twenty minutes. We're lowering the car manually until it reaches the next floor. We'll pry the door apart as soon as we can."

Twenty minutes? That's two hours in stuck-in-total-darkness time. John slid to the floor. He felt the slow, jerky movement of the car. Painfully slow.

Alerted by scratching noises at the door, John readied himself for a hasty exit. Fumbling in the dark to get his shirt on irritated him. Dressing in the dark was something he had prided himself on since his teens.

A blast of blinding brightness flooded over John. Unseeing, he stepped out of the car, landing in a heap three feet below, banging his knee and a shoulder. Hands and voices swarmed around him as his eyes slowly adjusted to his lighted surroundings. Quickly, he got to his feet, pushing the well-meaning hands away. He sprinted down the hall, weaving past all obstacles in his path – his path to freedom. The Emergency doors swished open as he rushed at them. Clearing the overhang, he stood in the open parking lot, hands on hips and chest heaving. He gulped lungsful of the sweet, ninety degree, hazy L.A. air.

"Johnny?" 

Grinning, John turned to his partner. "I'm not claustrophobic."


End file.
